


Family, Friends, and Plastic Eggs

by Shattered_Mirrors_and_Lace



Series: Home is Where the Heart Is [4]
Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Boys In Love, Domestic Fluff, Easter Egg Hunt, Established Relationship, Kid Fic, M/M, Post-Hiatus (Fall Out Boy), Tooth-Rotting Fluff, family fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2019-04-17 04:33:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14180706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shattered_Mirrors_and_Lace/pseuds/Shattered_Mirrors_and_Lace
Summary: For as long as Patrick can remember, Easter was always a way to celebrate family, with or without the religion context, so when he and Pete decide to host an Easter party at their home for the first time, egg hunt and all, Patrick can't help but reflect and even makes this Easter one special for his own little family.





	Family, Friends, and Plastic Eggs

**Author's Note:**

> *peaks out from cave and waves nervously* Hi! I'm back! <3

For as long as he could remember, Easter was always more of a family holiday rather than a religious one for Patrick.  Sure, he can vaguely recall attending Easter mass with his parents and grandparents, sitting in the pews in stiffly shirts and shined shoes, quietly playing with a matchbox toy car out of sheer boredom, the monotonous-sounding preacher droning on in the background about the resurrection of Christ, and lastly, formal Sunday dinners that followed.  But as the years passed by, Easter revolved more around bringing the family together rather than sitting in a old wooden pew trying  to keep entertained and quiet as the story Jesus was retold again and again.

 

Looking back, it wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate the religious and symbolic meaning behind the holiday, of course not, he knows the importance, knows what it means, it just turned into something more that just church. Once his parents divorced, his mom wouldn’t attend the Sunday Service as much, and they slowly stopped going to church all together, but his mom still kept her faith, and while she never pushed religion on her youngest son, she always made sure that he knew the stories, read him the psalms, and would even mutter a prayer under her breath, a quiet prayer for protection every time he  was whisked away on tour, from the first time he departed with Joe, Andy and Pete in their infamous rundown van, to even know, and even to now, a fully grown adult of 30, he always visits her before he leaves, and mutters the same quiet prayer she always does.

 

And when he finally built up the courage to come out to her all those years ago, with stuttering words, shuttering shoulders , and trembling hands, she wrapped her arms around him and kisses his head, hold him tight as she smiled into his soft hair, reminding him that no matter what happened, no matter what he did or what he may do, God would always love him, and above all, she would too.

_‘Is says in the bible. God loves all his children. Just because you’re gay doesn’t make any difference at all, baby…I’ll never stop loving you_.’

 

All in all, he wasn’t one to really _‘believe’_ , Patrick would honestly tell you, but he respected the faith, learned about it in its many forms. He knew there was God, and frankly, for him, that was enough. He didn’t need to attend communion, go to mass, or worship an idol to know that.

 

He practiced in his own little way, quietly and silently, much like he had seen his mother do over the years, a humble appreciation of faith, love and family.

 

And family was always important.

 

Despite the distance, the divorces and separations, new spouses and growing children— family was family. And Easter was always a way to celebrate it together with or without the religion context.

 

This year was no different.

 

Actually, scratch that; it sort of was— it was Pete and Patrick’s first _official_ hosting of Easter, and both their families and close friends were going to be descending upon their LA abode later in the afternoon.

 

Pete had actually suggested it, and Patrick, seeing the glint and twinkle in his boyfriend’s eyes as he talked avidly about cooking out and doing an Egg Hunt in the backyard for their friends and the kids, couldn’t say no.

 

“Were your step-brother and his wife able to fly out?” Pete asks from his place at the stove pouring colorful, sprinkle-laden pancake batter into  a sizzling pan, the sugary smell filling the kitchen and sure to have three pairs of eager feet rushing down the stairs fairly soon. Patrick hums in response as he leans against the counter-top  opposite of Pete, still clad in his well loved pajamas as he finishes filling the last of the colorful, plastic Easter eggs with candies and stickers for the egg hunt later that afternoon.

 

“Yeah, I talked to him yesterday, he and Lori are coming with the kids. He was going to call me when he landed,” he says easily as he snaps shut that last egg, carefully placing it in one of the buckets they had designated as the ‘Egg Stash’. “There,” he sighs with a proud grin, as he looks down at the bucket of plastic eggs. “All done, and right before the kids wake up.”

 

“Babe, seriously?” Pete whips around and looked over at his long-time boyfriend, pausing to flip a pancake before sneaking a glance at the bucket of eggs. “You did them all?”

 

The singer chucks softly, picking up the bucket of eggs and hiding them under a blanket in the laundry closet nearby, out of site from curious little eyes, before walking over to Pete. “It was only like, what? 150 eggs?  It’s not that much. Plus I got a head start on them yesterday when you took the kids to the park to launch that rocket you got Bronx and the day before”

 

Pete laughed as he turned back to his pancakes, “Still, that’s a lot of eggs, babe. You’re officially the egg master.”

 

“You know that’s not all, right?,” Patrick starts as he walks over to where Pete’s cooking, “Our moms are bringing more, and so is Brian, Joe, and I think even my Spence said he and Linda might bring some over.”

 

Pete threw back his head with a laugh. “Eggs for days, man. Eggs. For. Days! The yard is gonna look fucking awesome. ”

 

Patrick grins, wrapping his arms around the bassist’s middle from behind, kissing his shoulder lightly, right above where he knows a bruise is forming, darkening shades of red with the faint imprint of teeth laid hidden under the soft-thread bare t-shirt , a hidden reminder of last night’s activities temporarily etched into tan skin. “More like hyper active, sugar-crazed children for days.”

 

Pete groans softly at the thought but it slowly melts away into a playful grin as he flips the confetti pancake over to the “finished” pile and begins to poor more batter into the pan. “Maybe I should’ve skipped the sprinkles today…”

 

“You made Sprinkle pancakes?!” Both men turned to see a wide eye Bronx grinning with Saint and Declan on either side of him looking up at their fathers with equally round eyes filled with unbridled joy .

 

“Um…possibly?” Pete answers sheepishly, causing Patrick to roll his eyes playfully and smack the older man’s arm. “I’m joking! Of course, I made Easter pancakes!”

 

“Okay you three, go wash up for breakfast,” Patrick starts,  “And then maybe we’ll see if the Easter bunny left you guys some baskets outside,” Patrick told the boys, Declan rushing to his side  followed by Saint. He knelt down to hug them both, reaching over to ruffle Bronx’s messy hair, before motioning them to the bathroom to brush their teeth.

 

“Syrup and peanut butter, right babe?” Pete called out as the boys returned, Patrick making sure Saint and Declan sat safety in their seats around the island as Pete finished stacking on the final pancake in a neat little stack.

 

Patrick sends over a playful look of  “duh” before filling up cups of milk for the boys and fixing coffee for he and Pete. The older man simply laughs before handing each of their youngest three mini candy-confetti filled pancakes, and two regular sized one over to their oldest. “Confetti Pancakes. Happy Easter, my favorite little humans,” he grinned, kissing the top of each boy’s head as he placed their plates in front of them, Bronx trying unsuccessfully trying to duck away from his father’s affection with a laugh. Pete fixes up Patrick’s set of pancakes, smeared with peanut butter and tops them with a drizzle of syrup just like he likes them, and a kiss placed tenderly on his neck

 

It was so weirdly domestic for the lifestyle they live, Patrick thinks as he takes a bite out of his  sprinkle laden pancake. Since the band has been back together and having a say in their own scheduling rather than the label driving them into the ground, they’re able to have more times like this, more times with their sons, more time as a family. Tours were always fun, but sometimes they weren’t the best environment for kids, especially around school time. It killed them to leave them behind when they couldn’t bring them on tour. It left Patrick and Pete emotional wrecks for the first few weeks, especially after Saint and Declan were born, but they made due as best as they could, and found that Facetime and Skype, and printed pictures of their kids plastered in their guitar and wardrobe cases helped ease some of the heartache. It was never enough, if Patrick’s being honest with himself, but when they did come along, it was beautifully chaotic, juggling parenting and rockstardom, being the father the boys needed and being the band that was both true to themselves and to the fans.

 

Patrick wouldn’t trade any of it, not for anything for this moment, for having his little family and his best friend of almost 15 years, and boyfriend of six of those years, together, talking about the party in the afternoon, and the promise of an Easter egg hunt and of seeing their family and friends.

 

As he munches on a bit it of pancake, he feels Pete’s foot hook around his ankle, bringing him back from his thoughts with a familiar, loving touch. He looks over and is greeted by dark topaz eyes, a quiet question written in them. He must have been lost in thought, for Pete to gently nudge him, he figures, as he smiles over at the tattooed man reassuringly, and leans into his side as he takes a sip from his coffee, listening to Bronx explain how the Easter Bunny makes all the eggs appear in the yard to his younger brothers.  Patrick would trade it for all the richest and the fame in the world.

 

-//-

 

With breakfast  done and Easter baskets filled with markers, colors, cars and playdoh were found, they rested until the afternoon, both Pete and Patrick dressing the boys in Spring colored shirts that were more than likely to be stained with grass and mud by the end of the day, just in time for the doorbell to ring.

 

Pete’s mom is the first to arrive with Peter II towing along behind her, carrying three small baskets for their three every excited grandchildren and her famous carrot cake bars for the party and a fairly large bag of Easter eggs . Patrick’s mom is next, bringing her three baskets of goodies for Saint, Declan, and Bronx, each showing the good to their fathers before running up the stairs to place them in the rooms to open for later, along with more plastic eggs and side for the barbecue. Once their moms showed up, everyone else begins to trickle in, Pete’s brother and sister, Patrick dad with his step-mom and half-sister, along with Patrick’s brother all make the party. Several of their friends also join the festivities, such as Brian, Joe, Andy, Brendon, Spence, and a few others friends with their kids.

 

The party is in full swing, and was luckily moved from inside the living room to the backyard as soon as Pete fired up the grill filled with hotdogs and hamburgers while all the kids busied themselves with a game of tag or hide-and-seek in their backyard.

 

When everyone was happily full and fed, the kids are all corralled inside the house to await the Easter Egg hunt. Rounding up some extra hands, Pete and Patrick, along with several of their family and friends, scatter and hide the candy and goody filled plastic eggs, along with some that their friends and family had brought, throughout the backyard, hiding them carefully in the grass, in the plants, in their little playset, and all around, transforming their yard into a beautifully colorful landscape.

 

“Eggs for days, I’m telling you,” Pete grins as he snaps a picture of the yard before the kids come outside. “Let’s bring them out,” Patrick nodded.

 

The adults make a makeshift starting line out of chalk, each child lining up baskets in hand and eyes shining bright with awe at the sheer amount of eggs in the yard. Brendon volunteers himself as announcer, explaining simple house- rules comically before the hunt commenced. “Alright kiddos! Easter Bunny left me in charge to watch you all go ham on the yard,” he starts with a playful grin. “No pushing or shoving, unless it’s for Reese’s Peanut butter cups, then you all better fight ‘til the death for those, no holds-bar—”

 

 “BRENDON!”

 

 “Just kidding!” Several of the adults laugh, along with the kids. “No stealing eggs from other people’s baskets, and have fun!” He stands before the group of kids, slightly bending down, his hands up as he starts. “On your mark…get set… _GO FOR IT!! KILL EACH OTHER_!!” The children then swarm on their egg-filled backyard, while several of the adults are left in reeling in laughter, someone even yelling out, _“Damnit Brendon, it’s Easter, not the fucking Hunger Games!”_  as other adults are calling out encouragements while recording the madness with their phones.

 

Pete and Patrick looked on with laughter watching the boys search manically for eggs, Pete even snapping pictures of the kids every chance he got, even capturing the moment when Bronx teamed up with Saint and Declan in the search of more eggs.

 

With all the eggs found and the kids  back on the patio with the rest of the adults, showing off their bounty of eggs, Patrick starts to wait nervously for what’s about to come, trying to keep himself occupied as Saint starts opening their eggs and showing off their goodies inside of their eggs.

 

“Dad!” he hears Bronx call out as he makes his way over to Pete, who was sitting smack dab in the middle of everyone, his entire focus on Declan as he proudly shows him the eggs he found. “I think this one’s for you!”

 

Patrick looks up to see Pete looking utterly confused as his oldest son passes him a rather colorful plastic egg tired with a ribbon, a small cardstock tag attached to said ribbon read _“For Pete W.”_ in an elegant scroll. The egg itself stands out from the rest, the plastic thicker, and the details on it more intricate the than a regular plastic egg.

 

Patrick’s tempted to walk inside, doubt crossing his mind, yelling at him to run and hide, or even tell Pete to open the darn thing later, but instead, he finds himself moving closer to Pete, taking a seat next to him, looking equally curious despite the anxiety flooding his body. “Huh,” Patrick starts, looking over his boyfriend shoulder as the bassist inspects the inspecting the egg. “What is it?”

 

Pete shrugs eyes curious. “I don’t know…I don’t remember seeing this one when we were setting out the eggs.” Patrick watches as Pete looks over the tag once more, as if trying to find some mistake, some error in the egg. When he finds none, Pete’s undoing the ribbon tied around the egg. Everyone’s attention seemed to be turned to Pete as he inspected the egg once more, finding that the way to open the curious plastic shell was to unscrew the top.

 

Patrick’s heart is pounding in his ears as Pete carefully works the top off of the egg, moving Declan and Saint over to the side along with Bronx who was just as fascinated by the mysterious egg as everyone else. Patrick watches as the top comes loose, and a breathless gasp falls from Pete’s lips.

 

And time freezes, but at the same time, it’s moving so impossibly fast, and Patrick can’t stop it. There isn’t time to stop it, he really couldn’t, not from the moment he placed that special egg in that special spot he knew Bronx would look in first. Patrick started a chain reaction that he could not stop the moment Bronx brought the egg to his father, and especially now when that said egg is open and in Pete’s slightly trembling hands, whiskey brown eyes wide and frozen with wordless shock.

 

There, nestled in the plastic green grass inside the egg was a ring, simple and silver with three small diamonds inlayed within it. Bronx had unknowingly helped Patrick pick it out a few months back when they had passed by a display in a window, pointing at the ring saying _“That’s a cool one for Dad.”_ Patrick had gone back later to purchase it, and was waiting for the right time to do this.

 

And what better time than in front of their family and friends.

 

Taking the ring from the egg, Patrick slid down from his chair to one knee, causing several of their guests to gasp and chatter excitedly. With his own trembling hands, Patrick grasped both of Pete’s in his, taking a deep breath of his own to steady himself, focusing on the way their hands looked against each other caramel and cream, inked and untouched, but both hands know of each other, of each other’s bodies, of love, of music, of caring for children and soothing away worries; they fit so perfectly together.

 

There were supposed to be words Patrick was planning to say , something heartfelt and meaningful, but right now, he can’t seem to remember a single one, and honestly, there’s nothing more perfect than that—he doesn’t need to pour his soul out, he doesn’t need to make a grand declaration of love in the form of a lengthy speech and poetic vows.

 

He just wants this, wants to ask Pete something he’s been holding in for so long now. He should have done this years ago, and God, or whatever is up there knows it would have saved them from the world of hurt they both had endured, but at the same time, they probably wouldn’t have Bronx if Patrick did this back then, they wouldn’t have healed, or grown up, or explored their own paths….Life works in mysterious little ways, if Patrick thinks about it.

 

But right now, his only thought is on the man sitting before him as he kneels on the ground, their three boys beside them, watching on along with their family.

 

“Pete…,” Patrick starts, grinning up at his best friend and the love of his life, the father by blood and by soul of the three beautiful children he thinks of has his own. “Baby, wanna make our family official? Will you marry me?”

 

Pete’s shocked expression melts into a grin, bright and brilliant like the Spring flowers and the summer sun, eyes as golden as warm honey as he gasps out “Yes, yes, _fuck yes_ ”  He pulls Patrick up from the floor and brings him into a kiss. They could hear cheers and congratulations from all around them as pull part, Pete breathless, grinning like a mad-man, Patrick’s smile just as wide as his.

 

With the ring snuggly on Pete’s finger, Patrick brings in the love of his life in for another kiss, capturing his lip in his own as his cradles  Pete’s face in his hands, pulling away to gently wipe away the happy tears that were falling from his eyes.

 

“I love you,” the singer whispered against his lips, kissing him soundly once more. The kiss itself speaks volumes, it’s passionate, but there is _passion_ brimming from it, filled with love and promise and _everything_. It was everything Patrick wanted Pete to understand, what Pete meant to him, to their kids, to their fans, and to their band, their family and friends. It is wanting to forever be the first thing he saw when he woke up, to the last thing he sees and thinks about when he closes his eyes. He wants to be Pete’s everything, if he would let him.

 

“I love you, too, Patrick. So, so fucking much.”

 

Soon they are  bombarded by three smaller bodies, Bronx, Declan, and Saint joining them in their hug, settling their sons in between them, kissing each of them soundly on their heads, celebrating life together as a family, and it makes Patrick smile.

 

Easter was always for family, and Patrick thanks whatever God, deity, or spirit there was that he could spend it with the family he’ll forever have with Pete.

 

And he would never trade this for anything in the fucking world.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed!
> 
> I actually had this fic written for about a year, but was never confident enough to post it, until I found it in my scrap pile last month when I was in a bit of a funk and worked on it a bit. These last three months have been a doozy, but I'm finally back to writing and posting, and I have a few stories lined up to be written, so fingers crossed! Feel free to leave comments or kudos, or if you want to find me on tumblr @shatteredmirrors-and-lace23. I should be posting sneak peaks of upcoming updates and new fics fairly soon.
> 
> Thank you a million and Happy Easter, loves!


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